These Are Their Stories
by LoveLoci
Summary: Season 6: These Are Their Stories.... watching the lives of Bobby and Alex, while they discover they are partners out of work, as well.


Season 6: These Are Their Stories.... watching the lives of Bobby and Alex, while they discover they are partners out of work, as well.

Bedfellows … The Beginning Saga

Robert Goren tries to finish his Copeland case paperwork, but can't stay focused. This time, the distraction is patterns of twos -- two families, two wives, two sons, and two grandsons – two deaths. And then the two straight lines that form the parallel to two young brothers, Frank and Bobby Goren. Lines pointing to two young men whose spirits were long ago broken by a dominating and manipulative father.

"Bobby!"

"Yeah?"

"That's the third time I said your name. Where on earth were _you_ just then? Taking care of the Hampton's Housewife's 'garden' again?"

"Well they were right in front of my face," he shot back.

After six years of being partners, it's become her habit to tease him, trying to lighten his mood. He wonders if she actually can read his mind, and wouldn't doubt it.

Eames leans across her desk and lowers her voice. "Of course they were, she was wearing six inch fuck-me stilettos, Goren."

He immediately blushes at her rare use of an obscenity in the office, and the image it burns in his overactive imagination. Apparently satisfied, Eames sits back in her chair and smirks.

Bobby hasn't thought about the Hampton's 'gardens', or any woman's gardens for a long time. He often wonders how Eames can do that to him; break him out of his reverie. Even the times he wants to be miserable, she knows what he needs. In his battle for his peace of mind, she's been his ally, and her defending him is all he knows.

Right now, he needs to leave One Police Plaza and get a drink.

"Bobby?"

"Hmm?"

"You wanna go grab a drink? Glenlivet - I'm buying."

It truly amazes him, not only that she's still his partner after seven years, but that she wants to spend free time with him outside of the job as well.

"Earth to Goren."

"Eames?"

Arms folded, she studies him closely. It seems she mistook his delay in answering as hesitation. She doesn't know how wrong she is.

"You've been thinking about that stinky milkshake too much."

"Sure Eames, let's go. But I'm buying dinner, too. I heard your stomach growling right around the time Ross was _growling_ about something."

"Yeah, paperwork … yours."

Moments later, while in the elevator with his petite partner, Goren imagines what it would be like to hold her. Standing so close to Eames, and in such small quarters, makes her precise, familiar movements seem new and alluring..

He shakes his head as if the thoughts might fly right out. What makes it worse is her perfume. The fragrance enters his senses and keeps the thought of holding her at the surface - impossible to release.

He feels betrayed by his emotions. Why this sudden onslaught of retrospection, this rush of attraction? Is it the Copeland case -- the shattered lives and relationships driven by jealousy and greed, not love? His tension surrounds him, lying heavy in the air like the weight of a summer storm, and he's sure Eames can feel it too. He can't wait for that drink.

They arrive at Chopin's Keys, a new piano bar on the east side. He helps with her jacket, letting his hand linger on her shoulder. On impulse, he leans over, his lips shadowing her face, and whispers, "I'm glad I'm with you tonight, Alex."

She snaps her head to the side and they're nearly touching. "I'm glad to be here with you, too, Bobby." She looks straight in his face. Bobby pulls out her chair, and she sits, ending the moment.

As he takes his seat directly across from her, he realizes that misery is overrated. He's been miserable for most of his forty-odd years on earth, yet sitting across from him is a gorgeous woman. She's his equal in every way, but when she needed him, he wasn't there for her. Does she blame him for that? He knows she doesn't, and she never will.

Look at her, after all that's happened she isn't bitter. She's healing, she's moving on and has that twinkle in her eyes… _ah, I could get lost in her eyes…_

"Bobby, Bobby Goren. Is this going to be a one sided conversation?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm talking to myself again. Talk about giving a girl a complex."

"No, no … I'm sorry. I was lost in thought."

"Care to share with the class?"

"It's just that…you… You're beautiful, Eames."

"Bobby… Look, if you don't want to talk about it …"

"No … that's what I was thinking about. What a lucky guy I am to be sitting here with you." He looks around. "I'm the envy of every guy here."

"Cut it out, Goren."

"What? I can't tell a friend how beautiful I think she is?" He leans in to speak softly."Because you are."

She tries to hide her pleased smile but she can't hide her soft rose blush. He reaches for her hands. _What am I doing?_he thinks. Whatever it is, she's not objecting. She slips her hands into his, they're small and warm, and she runs her finger up and down the inside of his palm. His body stirs and finally she looks up to catch his gaze. Could they be feeling the same thing?

Their drinks arrive, a brief distraction. Bobby watches Alex take a long sip of her gin and tonic. She leans back in her seat, eyes narrowed.

Folding her arms, she asks, "What's really going on, Goren?"

Scotch halfway to his mouth, he pauses, arching his brows. "What?"

"No, no, Bobby. Don't answer me with a question. You know what I'm talking about. Why are you flirting with me? And why tonight?"

He lowers his drink until he feels it meet the damp edge of the coaster. "I'm not flirting."

"So you're not attracted to me?"

"I—I didn't say that." He grabs his single malt and downs it in couple swallows, then signals the waitress for another. "I'm not gonna get drunk, but I need a couple of drinks to say what I want to say."

Looking annoyed, Alex flips through a menu. Or maybe she's frustrated, Bobby's not sure, but he suspects he's caused her uneasy expression. He wants to tell her what he's feeling and hopes that somehow, he can.

Her kidnapping and his mother's lymphoma diagnosis made the last several weeks a hell on earth for both of them. Tonight, he feels a part of something…someone, other than himself. For once, he feels at peace.

The waitress arrives with round two. She's tall and blond, with startling blue eyes, and Bobby notices how her glance moves from him, to Alex, back to Bobby, then to Alex again -- all with a big 'cat that ate the canary' grin on her face.

He reads her name tag. "Is something amusing you … ah … Ingrid?"

"It's just that … well," she's giggling now, "when two people are in love, it shows. And it makes me smile."

As she walks off, Bobby and Alex's eyes lock. Bobby now wears that very same grin … he's borrowing it from Ingrid.

He looks down into his amber liquor. As he wraps his hand around the glass, Alex curls her hand around his, bringing his eyes back up to hers.

"If a perfect stranger can see that Bobby, why can't you?"

It's as if he's been sucker punched. He's stunned, and it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts. _Does that mean she's in love with me?_

"Not only can I see it, Eames … I can feel it as well."

"Good, can we order now?"

"Alex? Just like that … we both agree… admit feelings… for each other, and all you can think about is food?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

His self revelations blind him to her sarcasm. She must take pity on him and let her guard down because she suddenly grins.

"I think I'll have the … ah … Detective Ala Gullible … with a side order of snark."

He stares at her, rolls his eyes and grabs her hand. "Hold the snark, but the gullible detective is all yours."

A smile that reaches her eyes warms him. She touches his heart deeply, finding a place he thought was lost to him a long time ago. He might be ready to have that talk after all.

Bobby orders for both of them. They've been together for so long, he knows her as well as he knows himself. Alex starts every day with coffee, a big cup with lots of sugar, and he can make it for her better than she can. She likes Danishes for breakfast and enjoys her Margaritas tall and salty. When her eyes shine in the morning, it's a happy day. When her gaze is cloudy, it's rough sailing ahead.

Bobby stands to remove his jacket and take off his tie, and then he moves his chair around the small table to be closer to her. She smiles and reaches for his hand, he takes hers, squeezes it, and then he leans forward, elbows on the table.

"Thank you," he breathes, and lays her hand against his cheek. He closes his eyes.

"For what, Bobby?" Alex asks, her voice barely a whisper.

He opens his eyes and, slowly, presses his mouth on her wrist. Her warm pulse, beats strong against his lips, overpowering his senses. _ She's alive!_ The feeling takes over again, from that day, when he learned they found her in that death-trap.

"For fighting for your life. For coming back to me."

Alex doesn't reply, but she pulls his hand to her lap, stroking his palm. He swallows his drink, watching her, notices her hand trembling while she sips hers.

Ingrid intrudes on their moment, and serves their plates. "Are you having an anniversary tonight, folks? You both seem so… cozy." Ingrid eyes them both, and with the wisdom that seems born from youth, she adds, "And happy. Just happy, to be together."

"It's a beginning, _Ingrid," _Alex states.

"Oh, a first date…? How…fun!" Ingrid shakes her head, and saunters away. Bobby watches the impossibly young woman, with her whole life ahead of her. He thought his life had passed him by. But now…?

"The beginning, Alex?"

"Why not, Bobby?"

"I...I like the sound of that," he admits. He covers her hand with his, squeezing both her fingers and her thigh, before releasing it and starting on his food.

"We _do _need to talk, Bobby," she begins, while working on her own dinner. "I want to know, what's going on with you."

"What's going on with me?"

"Yeah, Goren. Is there an echo in here? What's going on, as in you seem happy tonight."

"It's like Ingrid says. When you're in—when you're with someone you love, it shows."

He knows she won't let up on her questioning, that it's just a matter of time before she gets persistent. And maybe it _is_ time they talk to each other about their lives.

"How's your mother? You don't talk about her at all."

"She's strong, Eames. She's Frances Goren."

"But what's that mean? What's her prognosis? Is she responding to any of the treatments?"

Pushing away his half-eaten Panini, he scrubs his face with one large palm. An urge to flee grips him, but he fights it. Instead, he reaches for her, squeezing her hand.

"I'm sorry, Bobby. Forget it—"

"No. You're right. I… You… should ask. I need to talk to you about this." He pauses, and takes a deep breath. "She is trying, but it's hard. Because of her…Schizophrenia. She doesn't always cooperate."

Alex nods her head. "And you? How are you doing, with all this?"

"Me? You know me better than anyone. I have my good days and my bad days." He notices how the candlelight flickers, casting shadows on her jaw, and her eyes shine. He clears the sudden lump in his throat. "My worst days were when you were gone. When I couldn't find you."

Bobby takes a long pull from his single malt, finishing it.

"Well, that's all behind us." Alex brushes her hair behind her ear.

"Is it really?"

"Yes. We can't let Jo Gage change the course of our lives."

"But I think she has, Eames."

Ingrid arrives, smiling, and serves them another round of cocktails. She clears their plates, and at Goren's gesture, drops the check on the table.

"How so?" Alex continues, stirring her fresh drink.

"I realized that my feelings for you were strong and more than just…"

"Platonic?"

Bobby smiles. "Yeah, that's the word. Platonic."

Alex sips her drink, then sits back and folds her arms across her chest. Bobby wants to touch her, hold her hand, wants to pull her in his arms. He blocks those urges, and waits.

"While I was held captive…hanging there, I thought about you. Only you."

As hard as he tries not to, he physically flinches. "Eames –"

She raises a shaky hand. "No, please, let me go on." She clears her throat. "I was worried about you. Not my folks, or my brothers and sisters. All I thought about was the hell you must have been going through. If you'd gone missing, if you ever go missing, I'll lose my mind."

"Some people think that's not a far leap for me, Eames." He's trying to ease the tone, because he hears her voice tremble and knows their talk is getting too intense. He wants to protect her and reassure her, so he pulls one arm free and sees her hand clenched in a tight fist. He gently unfurls her fingers, noticing ice cold skin. He tucks her small hand in both of his, warming it. "Alex," he begins, smiling.

But Alex isn't doesn't smile back. She catches his gaze and holds it. "I just wanted to see you again, Bobby. Be with you. My feelings are definitely not platonic."

"I know, Eames," he says, "I know." He stands and pulls her up with him. "Let's get out of here."

In front of the club, his arm around Alex, Bobby scans for a cab. He can feel her shivering and pulls her closer. When he turns and sees her face, her lip trembling, he knows she's not shaking from the cold.

"Come with me." He grabs her hand and pulls her to a recessed doorstep, and lifts her up. They're nearly eye to eye. He frames her face with two large palms. Her skin is warm and impossibly soft.

"Alex," his thumbs stroke her cheeks. She watches him, eyes wide and trusting. He feels her hands on his waist before her arms slip around him, and he doesn't know what to say or do. "Alex," he whispers.

Bobby lets his lips brush against hers, and she responds. He feels the street tilt beneath his feet, so he concentrates on her, how sweet she smells. He wonders if the skin on her neck is as soft as her face, so he lets one hand slide back and through her hair, in the softest caress, while he loses himself in the wonder of this first kiss.

In only a few moments he remembers, _Alex_, and he pulls away. She's smiling now, she's happy. Her eyes are bright.

"Bobby," her voice is steady, "it's really good."

"Yeah, Eames," he leans in for one more sweet kiss, and then, "really good."

Bobby pulls her against him, off her feet, for a strong embrace. He buries his face against her hair; he kisses her neck, briefly, and knows he'll always remember this moment.

Later, as he leans to open the cab door for Alex, he kisses her cheek. She holds her hand over the kiss, as if she'd like to keep it there forever.

"Alex, we'll do this again…soon?"

"Soon, Bobby. I'm hoping for more."

He watches the cab as it takes her on her way home. He stands there for several minutes, taking in the crisp, cold air, and wonders maybe this was all a dream. After all, happiness is a feeling quite foreign to him. Still, one he hopes to come to know well.

tbc....


End file.
